Room For More, I Suppose
by TheRealJules
Summary: Clara has been welcomed to the TARDIS with open arms. But she realizes some funky things about the aforementioned miracle machine and it's thief. Don't have to had seen the christmas special, but Angels in Manhattan would be a bit helpful.
1. Nerve Damage

**OI. It's my first Doctor Who fic. This obsession has hit me hard and fast. I have about eleven unfinished short fics and one other multichapter that may turn into a freaking monster. **

**Anyway. Hello, I'm Jules, I'll be your author this [time of day], very nice to meet you. Please enjoy my story. **

***Is disclaimer* **

"Are you ready?" He looked back at his newest companion, fresh from the grave. Donning new, twenty first century clothes, The Doctor didn't know what to make of the situation just yet. But he found her. He found his Clara. She stared suspiciously at the police box with her head cocked to the side and an eyebrow quirked.

"No." Her lips formed a perfect 'O' shape.

Slightly surprised, The Doctor smiled. "Perfect." He swung the doors open with a certain amount of grandiose. "So, this is it. You've seen the TARDIS before. Do you remember?" He watched as she took her second first steps into the spaceship. This was his favorite part of meeting a new companion.

"…No." She spun on her heel and pushed past him. She walked around the police box, awestruck. By the time she made it back inside, The Doctor was leaning up against the console, facing her. "It's smaller on the outside."

He smiled his secret little smile. "So I've heard. This is the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"So this is your spaceship?" He nodded hesitantly. He was pretty proud of the recent renovation. He felt it… matched him more. He could only hope that Clara saw it the way he did. A small smile cracked her cheeks and he chuckled with her as she breathed out her response, "cool." She nodded and swiftly walked around the console room. "Is this all?"

The Doctor scoffed. "'Is this all' she says, 'is this all.'" He gestured to the staircase to his left. "Why don't you go and see? Your room is in there somewhere." He waved her off. Clara waited a while before her face busted into a smile and she dashed up the staircase. The Doctor paused a moment before giving up hope that she would be returning any time soon. Even the Doctor was never one hundred percent on how many rooms there were on the TARDIS, as it changed every moment, given the situation. Sometimes, she gave you the directions you needed. Others, you were on your own. Clara explored willingly, opening every door she could. Each door had a picture on it. As she traveled through the winding hexagonal corridors further and further, she was certain she was very, very lost. She didn't much mind, though.

Moving slowly, she made her way into each room she came across, playing a little game with herself. She would take the picture on each door, and guess what was inside. The TARDIS was incredibly unpredictable, in most cases.

The picture was a top hat; she guessed it was a hat room; it was a wardrobe.

The picture was a sheep; she guessed it was a farm; it was a room made entirely of wool.

The picture was a pillow; she guessed it was (finally) her bedroom; it was like one of those rooms you see in crime shows, a room that was entirely white with walls padded with pillows.

The picture was a vase; she guessed it was… she didn't know; it was a room filled entirely with glass

The picture was of the TARDIS; she had given up guessing at this point; it was mini museum dedicated to each incarnation of The Doctor and his TARDIS.

The picture was a flower; she guessed it was a garden; it was locked.

The picture was a torch; she guessed it was a sitting room with a fireplace; it was locked.

The picture was a stethoscope; she guessed it was the medical bay; it was locked.

The picture was a wedding dress; she guessed it was a wardrobe; it was locked.

The picture was a lake; she was excited, she guessed it was a campsite, or the swimming pool, or something; it was locked.

She finally found her room. It was surrounded by all the locked doors. No picture, just '_Clara' _written in cursive. She felt somewhat discontented. She walked in, taking in her surroundings. A kind bed sat on a peninsula that was three or four steps up from ground level. She turned to her right a tad and took a breath. A floor to floor window let out onto a balcony, enclosed by an atmospheric shield, but the sky was the most amazing part. It wasn't the sky. It was outer space. She wanted to see the stars, and he made sure that she could.

"You like it?" She was snapped out of her reverie by the voice of The Doctor, leaning up against the door frame.

"_Like_ it?" She scoffed as she jogged toward him and grabbed him in a hug. "I love it."

"I'm glad." She released him and he turned to exit the room, leaving a confused Clara in his wake. "Well then, come alon-" he paused, in mind and body, visibly flinching.

"You alright, then?" Clara came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Quite alright. Come to the console room, there is much to see, much to do, much to learn. Tell me Clara, do you know what you like to eat?"

As they finished up their meal of beans on toast and tea, Clara's curiosity was a peak, and she just couldn't help but ask, "Doctor, if I may ask, why are there… four boxes of fish sticks, and a load of custard in your trashcan?"

He paused mid-chew, and accosted the trashcan with his stare, eyes saddening by the second. He meant to get rid of that stuff… but he couldn't bring himself to it. He cleared his throat and looked down into his near-empty tea cup. "Expired."

She recognized the aversion immediately and changed the subject. "So, where to, Spaceman?"

He looked up at her with puppy dog eyes that could rival an actual dog's.

_Shoot. Another nerve. _"You ready?" he stood, taking the dishes and depositing them in the sink, where they vanished immediately, and reappeared in the open cupboard, sparkling clean, new.

Just like her.

**This story makes me sad. You'll see why, maybe tomorrow or the next day or the next or the next. I already have the next chapter and it induces a lot of feelings in me but you have to ask for it. It's very feelings. It's all very nostalgic and lies and PONDS. I can't. I can't. Okay, continue your reading experience.**


	2. Never

**Happy New Year, sheep. Glad to have celebrated this passage of time with you. In the meantime, we can read my next and final chapter. Sigh, to be a competent and consistent writer. See you all soon, likely for spring break. 3 Enjoy! **

It was a Sunday. The Doctor didn't like to do any world-saving or physically taxing traveling on Sundays, for reasons unknown. Clara knew he wasn't a religious man; he was practically a God, himself. But whatever the case, he was sitting in the observatory of the TARDIS, looking out into his home- the vastest place in the universe- space itself. She took a seat next to him, and he handed her his glasses.

She had been traveling with him for about two earth months, and she was rather clever, so she picked up on the technological stuff fairly quickly- considering she was a human. But however much she knew of the TARDIS- a limited knowledge, for sure- The Doctor remained a mystery. The small amount of things she knew of him came from the museum.

She had just gone for a stroll through the spaceship- there was never the exact same layout, and there were never the exact same rooms. She had started her adventure at her room, squinting at the locked doors that surrounded her. They had continued to flummox her, even two months later. _What was behind those doors?_

A flower? A torch? A stethoscope? A Dress? A lake?

As she looked up at the sky through The Doctor's glasses, and saw the dancing of the stars and the wind and the colors and the sun and the other suns and the _thousands_ of suns and the moon and so many rainbows all at once, she just had to know one more thing about the universe for now.

"Doctor what is inside the rooms surrounding mine? The locked ones. They're the only locked ones on the entire ship. They're always locked. What could possibly be in there? I don't mean to pry, but those are the only four rooms that have always been in the same place, and locked. For months."

The Doctor stood abruptly and moved to the gigantic window that looked out onto the whole of creation. "Why do you need to know, Clara?"

She sat up and crossed her legs in the large leather chair. "Because my room is right in the middle of them. Who's to say when my door will be locked forever?" He looked at the ground at this response. It was a valid question. She remained seated. "Come on, Doctor. A flower? A torch? A stethoscope? A dress? A lake? What's the connection?"

He turned to her, and the light of space and time cast ghostly shadows over his form, causing him to appear rather frightful. "There is a connection. They are all my previous companion's rooms."

"Previous…"

"Yes, previous. I'm nine hundred and nine, you thought you were the first?" He snapped. She reacted as one would expect. She bowed her head and pulled a knee to her chest. It was clear by his face that he immediately regretted his comment. "I'm sorry, Clara, I really am."

"I know."

"It's just a touchy subject. Not a flower, a rose. Not a torch, a torch made of wood, not a dress, a wedding dress, and definitely, not a lake. A pond." He retreated to his chair next to her and sunk into it, rubbing his eleventh face with his eleventh hands.

It was silent in the observatory. The stars danced above them as the black marble floor below them reflected the images onto the slabs of mirrors on the walls. It was The Doctor's favorite room.

"Where are they, Doctor?"

"Everywhere."

"Where, though?" He turned at looked at her, pleading with her to please not make him go into it. "No dice, Doctor, I want to know." He sighed, and clicked a button on the remote that sat on the table in between the two chairs. A projection screen covered the middle of the enormous window. The Doctor clicked another button and sighed at the image that appeared.

Blonde hair, big, brown eyes, and a smile that could soften even the most tortured Dalek, Rose Tyler. "That's Rose Tylah. She got trapped in an alternate universe with a mortal version of me. We're married. We have a kid. Jack. It's complicated." He flipped the slide, revealing none other than "Jack Harkness. Immortal. Good guy. He is off at the Torchwood institute doing some wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey business. A really big sleaze ball, honestly. Good guy though, good guy." Another click. "Martha Jones. She fancied me. She married Mickey, Rose's ex-boyfriend. It's complicated." Click. "Ahhh, Donna Noble. She absorbed a Time Lord's knowledge, or something like that- still a little unclear on that one, honestly- I had to wipe her memory of me. She has no idea I exist. She's better off. They all are." He didn't click next. "You happy?" he looked at her with the tired eyes of a nine hundred year old man who had lost more than could possibly be fair.

"No. Not when you're so sad. You want to be alone, a bit?" He gave her a depressed little smile, and she came over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Oi, you got me, Doc." He looked up at her, smiling. "Doctor… they aren't better off without you. They're better off for having known you. All of them, I'm sure."

Left alone in the simultaneous dark and light of the observatory, he flipped to the next slide. "Little Amelia Pond." His hearts sunk. He missed them all. He missed them all terribly. Especially Rose. Especially Jack. Especially Martha. Especially Donna. Especially Amy, and especially Rory.

And it hurt. It hurt horribly, every day. But what hurt more was knowing that, no, they weren't better off without him. They missed him. All of them. Even Donna, with her wiped memory, she feels a crack in her soul that will never- _can_ _never _be healed. Even Rose, with her husband and kid, she misses the TARDIS and the traveling. Even Martha, with Mickey and her happiness, a part of her will always love The Doctor, and he can do nothing about it. And as always, what hurts so much more than his own pain, is knowing that all of them are in pain, because they miss him. They need him. And he will never be there for them.

Never.

**OOOOOOOOOH ELEVen. **

**Have a nice year, folks. Try not to drown in feelings in April. **


End file.
